


Say I Won't (But I Do)

by Trilies



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trilies/pseuds/Trilies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His first impressions of the group are something like this: </p>
<p>The Dolorosa is more intimidating than he'd like to admit outloud. The Disciple is ridiculously attractive and too friendly. </p>
<p>If he keeps talking to this nubby horned mutant, he is probably going to punch him in the shame globes. </p>
<p>But he's definitely not going to join them. No. Definitely not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say I Won't (But I Do)

The night, thus far, was going what one could almost dubiously call "well". And Artolo Apemis was sure as hell dubious.   
  
It probably had something to do with Murphy's Law, of which he was a firm believer in when it came to his life. It was hard  _not_  to be, considering Murphy seemed to constantly be up his nook with a shiny new hatepail every single minute of the hour of the goddamn day. If Murphy was not some long dead asshole and not some phrase you used to describe how fucked you potentially and definitely could be, and was in fact a living breathing troll with a working set of junk, then Artolo would have been set for life on the kismesis front. He would have had spade pails for days. The Imperial Drone would fucking choke on them.  
  
The first dubiously good thing of the day had started off with him being actually able to sleep in. That didn't actually mean much, really. The sopor was so thin and so far past the expiration date that day terrors practically lived in the stuff instead of being repelled by it. Still, it was a novel gift. It also hadn't meant much when he'd woken up in a panic thinking he was late for factory work and thus on the culling list. It had taken some asshole he didn't even know- the newkid to replace their asshole blockmate who got himself culled because of quadrant fuckery and highbloods- to pap his ass down.   
  
Turns out this had a lot to do with the second dubiously good thing of the night, which was that the factory work was shut down for the time being. Something something, highblood fuckery, someone important higher up the ladder had gotten culled and now all the red tape had to be dealt with before work could resume.   
  
This was only a (dubiously!) good thing because of the  _third_  thing, which was that a small group of other slaves had managed to get shit from the cafeteria so that they wouldn't starve. Wouldn't you know it, one of them was one of his blockmate's auspitice and thus they were all invited. You didn't want to piss off the people you immediately lived with, after all, on the basic principle that they were in the best position to shank you at any given moment.   
  
The fourth thing was that he had only gotten backhanded by a highblood twice that day, two separate occasions.   
  
It wasn't even that good a thing to celebrate, despite his hardwired-into-his-fucking-genes obsession with duality. Still, there were days where he'd apparently "eyeball" a highblood in just the wrong way or was simply in the area and come back to his 'coon looking like he'd smashed his face into bricks a couple dozen times. Just two was a pretty good record, in all honesty.  
  
Daylight was looming threateningly over the tops of the buildings when one of his blockmates spoke up. She was a chick who was all squares, honestly- horns like bricks and shoulders like a stone wall. Everything highbloods sneered at and said wasn't attractive. Well, fuck 'em. Artolo had learned long ago to ignore to the best of his abilities what highbloods said was "in" both because fuck highbloods in general and because they didn't know glutes from zombies. She was cute and she put up with his shit. Plus she had a thieving little shit of a monkey lusus whose spoils she'd sometimes share with them.   
  
"Y'know, I saw somethin' along the gutters last morning." It was the way she said it, real quiet and glancing about as they took an alley shortcut, that had Artolo paying attention. "You know that place where Montez lost his sylladex? Saw some toes, figure the whole set might end up there if the flow doesn't get blocked."   
  
Someone was real paranoid, although that was a laugh coming from him. It was all round about speak, that's what it was- there wasn't any troll any of them knew named 'Montez'. 'Montez' was just a made up thing, a name you used when you had to use something. And she had to use it because apparently, through the usual lowblood gossip... Some fresh face was trying to round up a group to speak with down by the old secondhand 'dex shop which had closed down a perigee ago.   
  
Highbloods generally didn't like it when lowbloods got themselves a nice little group going. It made their culling fingers twitch. Something that had to be talked about like she'd just talked about it would almost definitely be so. Every scrap of common sense he had, partnered well with his knowledge of Murphy still calling with spades pail in hand, screamed against it.   
  
...But he was curious.   
  
The night was dubiously going well. The voices were quiet, although not silent.   
  
"Well, I gueth if we have nothing elthe to do, might ath well go check out thome toeth," he said with a hard jerk of his shoulders as a shrug.   
  
\------------  
  
Once they got inside, the sun blaring hot on their backs before it was shut out, all three of them split off from one another. Blockmate agreement- you were a smaller target on your own and they'd have a harder time finding your place if you weren't all bunched together heading to the same location.   
  
The place was  _packed_ , which surprised him. There were trolls seated together in a thick sea on the floor, elbows and knees and horns in a few unfortunate cases all bumping together. Newkid joined the throng, already chattering away with a few trolls Artolo highly doubted he knew. Dispah, the one made out of bricks, she went to a corner already congested with trolls she  _definitely_  knew and he could say this with confidence because he knew them too. All of them were other factory slaves.   
  
Artolo didn't join any group, or at least he did his damn best not to. He just took up some space propping up the wall, finding a small bit of space where he could cross his arms and not have his elbows stick into anybody's sides. It was there where he took the time to glance over the whole clusterfuck that was gathered. It was easy to see who had organized this all together. After all, they actually had a small bit of space up front where they could pace, if they so chose. They also had clothes that didn't look like they were utter shit. As far as he could tell, there were three.   
  
The one who drew his eye first as a woman, one horn sharp and pointed and the other curved into a hook. She had his attention mainly because she was the only one standing up front. Something about her reminded him of highbloods, but it wasn't her blood color that brought it to mind. It was the way she stood. Highbloods were the only ones who really held themselves with any kind of confidence- actually maybe that was wrong. Highbloods were all arrogance and strutting. This woman held herself with a word he never really got to use that often. She held herself with  _grace_ , from the careful folding of her hands in front of her to the way she peered out from beneath her long lashes. It took him a moment to identify the shade threaded through her dark clothes. When he did, Artolo took in a sharp breath.  _Jade_. They were practically mythical, you just plain didn't see them. At least, lowbloods like him didn't see them. He only knew from old schoolfeeding modules. Suddenly feeling uneasy, he shifted his gaze immediately to one of the other trolls.   
  
It was easy to see who the actual leader of the group was. At least, he was likely the speaker from what he could tell. None of the other two were getting so engrossed like he was with what audience was at the front. Artolo couldn't see much of his face, due to the fact that his head was bowed as he spoke in low tones with the trolls that were at the front. Every single one of them was leaning close, mesmerized by something he couldn't see. Maybe it was the utter lack of horns. This almost made him want to laugh. There had to be horns, he could sort of see the nubs poking up against the troll's hood, but to have horns that short... Jeez. He almost felt bad for him. Maybe he'd offer him one of his sets just to give the poor fuck a break.   
  
But it was weird... Maybe it was because he was crouching down so that he could speak with the front rowers, but Artolo couldn't see even a single tiny splash of color on the troll. Bizarre. Shaking his head, he looked to the next troll.  
  
Another woman, garbed in curling lines of olive so just a rank above him and thus not often a kind of slave you saw too often. Traders, shopkeepers- that's where he usually saw olivebloods at least in this city. She was sitting crosslegged and bent over, aggressively writing down at the speed of light into some sort of book. Whatever she was focused on had her completely engrossed but, as he watched, she finally took a pause so that she could lean back and stretch her arms up over her head... Oh. For a moment, he forgot what he was trying to pay attention to in favor of seeing those muscles flex. She had a cute smile too, he noticed numbly, something she flashed to the hooded troll when he glanced back to her.  
  
That seemed to be some sort of sign. The cloaked troll gently patted the hands of the trolls that were closest to him before he drew himself up. The quiet insistent murmur which had been filling the building drew quiet. The only thing which broke it was when the troll pulled back his hood- sharp gasps broke out. Artolo didn't gasp. He only felt himself become very very cold as he stared.   
  
His irises were as bright a brilliant red as one of Artolo's own.   
  
No wonder he didn't display his color, a sign, anything. Eyes like that could only mean mutant, and not the coy kind of mutation like an extra set of horns. That was an instant cull. He wouldn't even be given a trial if a legislacerator or highblood saw eyes like that, blood like that.   
  
He didn't seem particularly bothered by the fact that he'd just handed a loaded gun to every single troll in the building with him, each who could set it off at a moment's notice. In fact, he just  _smiled_  in a way that immediately rubbed Artolo the wrong way. He'd never really seen anyone smile like that, lowblood or high. It... was too nice. Too soft. The last troll who'd smiled to him like that, tried to play moirail to him when he was younger, he'd found her with her throat slit in the streets, orange blood pooling beneath her. Softness got her killed. For a brief moment, Artolo hated the troll standing in front of all of them.   
  
"Greetings, all of you!" Even his voice was nice, Artolo was loathe to admit. It was just the right volume to reach all of them, even assholes like him who were in the back. Obviously this wasn't the first time he'd talked to a bunch of trolls. "I'm positive some of you have, one way or another, heard of me. For others, this is the first time you have. It's for your sake that I'll introduce myself. As you can see... I am Signless." It was a title and a descriptor all in one. As the murmuring began anew, he glanced all throughout the crowd and-   
  
They met eyes. Signless' gentle smile almost seemed to grow like he'd spotted an old friend.   
  
Artolo didn't have any time to figure out what the hell that meant. The moment was over in a second, short enough for him to convince himself that nothing had  _really_ happened even though Signless wouldn't stop smiling like he was pleased as fucking punch.   
  
What a nookwhiff.   
  
While Artolo stewed over the strange glance, Signless continued to speak. "I know that you are  _all_  risking a lot by coming to meet me and simply just by gathering like you are. I cannot thank you enough for putting so much trust in me. However, you shouldn't have to be afraid for your very lives meeting like this. No matter the color of your blood, you should be allowed to meet with however many people you please. No matter the color of your blood, you shouldn't be treated like animals used only to be bred and worked." There was a pause as he sweeped his gaze over the entirety of the group once again. His gaze was piercing and unnatural no matter how gentle and understanding his expression. It was the color of his eyes. There wasn't anything like them. They saw through you.   
  
"Now, all of what I am about to speak of will clearly be of treasonous things and I will be speaking for quite some time. If you're afraid of getting caught up in something you don't mean to be, or don't have much free time, then please feel free to leave. Yet please keep in mind that I will not ask any of you do a single thing for me besides listen and think on what I speak of."   
  
The silence that followed after was thick. Trolls glanced at one another, judging the atmosphere. One or two got up, clearly nervous under the heavy weight of so many eyes tracking them. Yet after them, no one else left. It was a mixture of genuine curiosity and simple peer pressure, when you got down to it.   
  
All three trolls up front smiled, Signless' the widest of all.  
  
"Thank you."   
  
After that, he talked.  _And boy did he fucking talk_. He hadn't been kidding when he'd said that he would be talking for 'quite some time'. It was actually a pretty amazing display of pure lung and jaw power to not shut up for so long.   
  
The whole thing was because of a dream. That was what Artolo got out of it, although he was tempted to quip during some point 'What, after inhaling sopor for an hour straight?' He didn't say that. He didn't say anything. He just listened to the mutant talk about a different kind of Alternia where slavery wasn't a thing, where a seadweller didn't get to backhand a lowblood just because he could and not get in any sort of trouble... Where they were judged on their character, not what hue their irises shown. Where every troll had a chance for greatness, no restrictions. Where they were equal. There was a lot more to it, of course, and every bit of it seemed to bring an energy to the majority of the crowd. By the time he was done, trolls were hurrying out the door with their heads bowed as they murmued to each other while others just looked more thoughtful than any blueblood would be happy with.   
  
Artolo didn't follow the crowd. He actually fought against it, even as the common sense portion of his thinkpan tried to remind him that he was already getting low on sleep time for the next day which definitely wouldn't be as cushy as today had been. By the time he had made it to the group, the majority of the crowd had left- scattering through the streets so they looked a little less conspicuous. Signless was murmuring to the jadeblood as Artolo approached, but immediately turned to smile at him widely when he noticed him.  
  
"You know, I thought  _I_  wath full of bad ideath," he started off with immediately. He'd thought he'd go for 'smug casualness' but instead, to his annoyance, he was already snapping the words out. He couldn't help it. Somehow, this asshole's brand of optimism grated on him. So long a pessimist, he couldn't stand it. That was his excuse. "You take the cake! Did you dunk your head into a vat of thopor and inhale ath much ath your gaping facehole could take in before you got thith all together? That'sth the only way I could come up with why you'd be tho cheerful to talk a whole lot of crap to a building full of people! If I'd known what I'd been invited to, I would have made thure to bring a plunger to deal with the thewage overflow! Where do I even begin?"  
  
If possible, Signless' grin was even wider and Artolo wanted to shake him.  
  
Before the mutantblood could speak- he was already opening his mouth and would probably go on for another eternity- Artolo whirled onto the jadeblood as if she might be a better source of sanity. "What about you two?" he snapped out even as her eyebrow rose up unimpressedly. Well, he was used to being a disappointment to highbloods, so whatever the goddamn nooklicking fuck. " _One_  of you hath to be hith moirail, do your friggin' job and pathify thith jackath before he trieth to hug a clown!" From the other side of him, he heard a strangled high pitched noise from Signless. For some reason, the jadeblood's mouth made a small twitch like she was doing her damn best not to laugh.  
  
"Gosh, calm down, you nerd!" the oliveblood said and pinched at his ribs like she knew him. He was too busy swatting her hands away to give a response. "Shouldn't you introduce yourself before trying to get all black on him?"  
  
"Oh pleathe, I am not."  
  
"Yes you are."  
  
"No I'm not."  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"No."   
  
Before they could get trapped in a merry-go-round of dickery, Signless stepped in again. Literally, right between them. "It sounds like you disagree with the message I gave, then," he said, guiding them back on track. "Do you really think you don't deserve a chance?"  
  
The sneers to his scratched up pair of horns. The uninvited and terrifyingly cool hands stroking his face and down his neck. Scars, more scars than he cared to fucking count, along his fingers from factory work and his back from punishment because lowbloods don't get to talk. The constant messages in stories and movies and shitty 30 second ads that crooned how every goddamn bit of him was wrong, utterly wrong because it was _lowblooded_ \- the rough hair and scratched up horns and inglorious work scars and his clumsy fangs- but if he bought this or acted like that, it couldn't fix his blood but it could at least make him pretend, shed off all the things that associated him with _sewerblood_  but it was either keeping himself fed or keeping himself pretty and the highbloods would still touch him however they  _fucking goddamn wanted_  either way...   
  
Signless' eyes were too bright. Artolo ground out, "I  _know_  it wouldn't work. What I think matterth nothing. Highbloodth would never let a thing like your little dream come to path. They have it too good where they are, and not a thingle one careth about lowbloodth like me."  
  
"But lowbloods like yourself outnumber highbloods vastly," Signless retorted quickly, not even pausing for there to be a second's silence after he was done. "Even for all that highbloods are powerful as they are now, they're still vastly outnumbered by those on the warmer side of the spectrum. Seadwellers are, statistically, the minority yet somehow still manage to be the ones ruling over such a huge number of trolls. They're outnumbered by maroonbloods alone. Maroon, orange, and yellow outmatch them by _millions_. You'd have to group together the seadwellers with the indigos, the bluebloods, and the  _ceruleans_  just to have it look like a little more of an even fight. That's assuming we don't group olivebloods in with other lowbloods since I've learned they tend to lean more that way when it comes to things like this. I'm certain highbloods would be insulted, of course, if you ever told them. There's that whole seadweller vs landweller business, and then there's the fact that when you get down to it, ceruleanbloods are just viewed as barely highblooded- I know for a fact that some nobility just see them as a slightly better midblood."  
  
There were some points in there, but damned like he would ever admit it. He raised up a single middle digit to the mutant. "One, it doethn't matter if we outnumber them becauthe they outclath uth. They have a fleet for thea and thpace, they have better weaponry, better wayth to gather information, you name it. Two-" And he raised up his other middle finger because this asshole deserved, quite frankly, nothing less. "You are tho full of it. Do you really think you can get every thingle lowblood on Alternia to actually go through with your thithive maggot crap dream?"  
  
When Signless grinned, it was all the answer he needed to give. It made a shiver go down his spine. Clear and burning as daylight, it said  _I know I can_.   
  
Artolo realized that if he stayed any longer, he might get swept up in something horrifying and breathtaking. It was highly likely it was too late for that. So he just said, quiet, "You know what you thould have done?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You thould have kept your thtupid mutant head down," he snarled out, watching as Signless' expression dimmed while staring into his own mismatched and blank eyes, "and maybe you would be actually able to  _live_  for longer than a goddamn thweep." With that, he whirled around on his heel and stormed out. Behind him, he heard Signless call after.   
  
"You're always welcome to come back!"  
  
"You're welcome to go fuck yourthelf on my bulge! I'm  _never_  coming back to your thtupid death wisth meet upth!"  
  
\------------  
  
So he came back to the stupid death wish meet up. And the one after that. And the one after  _that_.   
  
The first time he showed up, he took up the exact same space as he had last time with his teeth bared like he was going to shank someone and his arms crossed like he could make himself  _not_  do that. Signless had very nobly, bless his obnoxious mutant nookflap, done his best not to pay him too much mind. His jackass of a Disciple, on the other hand, had spent the entire little sermon grinning at him and making it no small secret that she was laughing at him behind her hand.   
  
"It wouldn't have been felt right if I didn't come a thecond time," was the excuse he gave, even as he was batting away the Disciple's fingers away from his ribs again.   
  
"What is with you and twos, is that going to be a thing?" she said, smiling at him. If she wasn't so cute and friendly, he would have kicked her head over asshole. The same went for Signless, actually, he was pretty sure. Life was so unfair.   
  
He made a face at her. "Two ith definitely going to be a thing, tho get over it," he snapped back before pointing an accusing finger at Signless. "Altho, you are tho wrong it ith actually physically painful and it wath bugging me not to thay anything."   
  
Signless would not stop grinning. "Then say something."   
  
God, what a prick. Artolo wasn't sure if he wanted to punch him or kiss him, so he settled for another argument.  
  
\------------  
  
He couldn't speak with Signless everytime. It seemed that with each meeting, more people squeezed themselves into the tiny space and more wanted to speak with him afterwards. He didn't speak much with the jadeblood, more or less on the basis that she intimidated him to some degree and he was in fact a huge loser. She always seemed polite enough, at least, and amused whenever he bickered incessantly with the two huger losers that were her company.   
  
So that often left him bickering to the side with the Disciple who didn't seem to understand the concept of personal space and snuck him bits of jerky which he shoved into his face hole like he was doing  _her_  a favor. "I only keep coming becauthe you keep feeding me," was the excuse he used one day, licking at the tips of his fingers like he could somehow find bits of meat still stuck to them. Her grin at him said she didn't believe a word of it.   
  
"You still seem to have a lot of fun arguing with him," she replied, brushing back some of her long hair. "You know, you make a lot of good points with him. I bet you if you and him actually worked together, you'd have a lot of good ideas about how we could change things. Come on, what have you got to lose?"  
  
That made him give a sharp bark of a laugh, his lip curling up over his fangs and his answer was sarcastic to the bone. "I don't know! Good question. Hmmm, maybe my life?"  
  
Instead of agreeing or glaring because it was truer than anything, she just made a quiet little frown. "But can't you die just as easily staying here as a slave?"  
  
His fangs snapped against one another, hard enough for pain to go lacing through his jaw, and he could only stare at her. She took this as a sign to forge ahead. "I mean, the first time you talked with Signless, you seemed to take it so  _purrsonally_. I've traveled around enough to see how yellowbloods like you get treated normally without any mutations. With how many it seems like you have, and being a slave... I  _know_  the typical lifespans of slaves, Art, they don't live really long!" She glanced back at Signless and Dolorosa, a matching pair with their soft and strong smiles. "I think Signless has lived longer sometimes... And he knows he might not have much longer, so why not do something? Why not try?"  
  
'Art'. He wondered vaguely when they began to refer to him so casually, so intimately, and why he's only just now started to notice. The wondering kept him from focusing on how tightly his throat had closed. It took him a moment to remember how to speak. "Purrthonally. You uthed a cat pun in a theriouth talk."  
  
" _That's_  what you're focusing on-"  
  
He got up. To his relief, he felt so detached from his body that he didn't shake. "I'm not having a theriouth talk with thomeone who utheth cat punth, thorry, bye." He could hear her protests behind him, and was well aware of how the other two were distracted as he left. He did his very best not to pay it any mind.   
  
It was around a quarter of the way to his hiveblock that he started to tremble and couldn't get himself to stop.   
  
Dispah was still awake when he entered, and raised her eyebrows at him. "Shit and globes, you look like someone just murdered your flushed." Then, suddenly genuinely worried, every bit of her- "Someone didn't really, did they?"   
  
His laugh was maybe a little unhinged. "Like I ever had one." Very tentatively, she came closer and papped her palm very carefully against his cheek. With no protests, he let her guide him to their 'coon where everyone had to squeeze in. Tonight, he was too out of it to complain about the newbie's knee jutting into his ass. As he closed his eyes, he noted the voices were especially loud today.   
  
\------------  
  
The next night, he went to the factory which was back up and running just fine. It had been for a while, but Signless had always seemed to work his way around it and with everyone's various breaks. Artolo had no idea how he did it.   
  
Adding to the general shittery of the day, the voices were even louder than they had been last day. They were a maelstrom of screams in his pan, bringing in a migraine with them. He knew he wasn't particularly subtle about it, snarling and swearing as he forced himself to keep working because no work meant no food and that was the  _last_ thing he fucking did. It was only when someone poor fucker got himself dragged into the machine and yellow was dripping onto the ground did he get a pause to sort it all out. They had to turn off the mulchbrain's corpse out before they could do anymore work, after all. They weren't  _that_  shitty a factory.   
  
Dispah and him were still sort of awkward around one another, but she came over to check on him regardless. There was a tiny shard of ice in her palm she pressed up against one sweaty temple of his. It wasn't much but at that moment, it felt like goddamn sanctuary. "You going to be alright, Apemis?"  
  
"I will thoot mythelf if you let me," he promised her, which probably said all that needed to be said. Ignoring her snort, he went back to digging through all the voices. It fucking sucked being a necro-empath. People were always dying and thus they never left him alone. It took a bit, hearing what they were  _dying_ \- ahahahahaaa- to tell him.   
  
His eyes flew open. "Oh fuck," he breathed. He latched onto Dispah's arm, looking positively manic. It probably was that kind of swing, honestly, because he wasn't sparing himself a moment to think a single thing through. "How long for them to fucking clean thith thing!?"  
  
She glanced over at the machine, brow furrowed. "What, probably half an hour, why-"  
  
The question couldn't even be finished before he was bolting off, hollering over his shoulder, "THERE'TH THOMETHING IMPORTANT I NEED TO DO!"  
  
Ever since he'd dragged himself out from the caverns and shoved into a cage with all the other lowbloods for a prechosen destination, he'd lived in this city. He had spent sweeps learning it like the back of his hand, all the best places to steal from when he was desperate and all the best places to hide when subjugglator groups came in. Not a single person in the whole goddamn city knew it better than he knew it. Yet even with that knowledge, of where to go and what alleys to duck into that made the way to his destination clearer, he knew he wouldn't make it in time. Not like this. Not on two stick thin legs that were stripped of all meat and energy.   
  
The solution was a clear one. It was also one that went against  _every_  single thing he'd taught himself over the years, against self preservation, against the paranoia which had guarded him so well for so many years.   
  
He really was in a manic swing. He didn't even think twice before turning on his psionics in a flare of ruby and blue.   
  
Just like that, in an instant, parts of the migraine started to melt away. He could almost swear they were dripping out his goddamn ears. It'd been so long since he'd used his psionics,  _really_  used them, and he went slamming into a stone wall. Hot blood was dripping from his nose, and his fangs had positively shredded his lips, but he didn't care. He just pushed himself further, went  _faster_ , a fucked up pinball out of heaven. In the blink of an eye, or maybe that was just the adrenaline talking, he was smacking into the wall outside that shitty little broken down storefront that had hosted so many lowblood meetings.   
  
He probably looked a goddamn sight as he threw open the door, blood dripping down his face like so much sewage and red-blue-red sparks still at his heels. Everyone was staring at him with wide eyes, and the Dolorosa had  _lipstick_  out for some reason his mind didn't give a fuck about. Signless took a step towards him, but he was already slamming the door shut and getting in the midst of them in a panic.   
  
"Bluebloodth," he wheezed out, word night incomprehensible because his lisp was a goddamn disaster on his ruined lips. "Highbloodth, go, we have to fucking  _move it people_ , they're here for the cull, have to go-"  
  
The pessimistic part of him had thought he'd have to waste valuable seconds explaining to a bunch of pandead assholes the 'why' of this order. It was almost stunning when they all reacted instantly, a whirlwind of movement that swept up everything in its wake. The place had already been pretty barren before, but they snatched up all traces of themselves. He went along with it, some old instinct guiding his body for him because it had no interest in dying, and then the jadeblood, the Dolorosa, was helping him along. Somehow, they were already in the backalleys. His ugly yellow blood was smeared all over her dress. "We have to go," he repeated, all jitters and clinging to her. Her hand was calm and settled between his many horns.   
  
"We're going," she promised, and kept him going.  
  
It was hard to tell how long they were moving when a thought suddenly hit him and he give a hiss between his teeth. " _Fuck_ \- I need to get back to the factory, I am going to on the fucking  _cull litht_  if I don't get back-" He didn't even have time to say 'bye I have to go before I die' when Disciple's arms were suddenly wrapping around him. Ignoring the yelp that leapt straight out of his mouth, she just hauled him into her arms like he weighed nothing and grinned to Signless and Dolorosa.   
  
"I'll get him back- we'll meet at the usual place?" Nods were exchanged and Signless was saying "Stay safe" when Disciple suddenly  _hauled ass_.   
  
After a lifetime of having smart mouth and long legs and needing the latter very much because of how much trouble the former got him in, he thought he knew all about hauling ass. He liked to think he was something of a pro at it. Disciple proved him completely and  _utterly_  wrong in that regard. She was a pro. She hauled ass like she was a predator aiming for a kill and she did it while holding up his dainty nerd ass with all the strength of a knight in shining armor and he was her fairytale prince. By the time they were at the edge of factory grounds, he was woefully turned on.   
  
"Go on!" she encouraged, swinging him from her arms and gone in a heartbeat. He barely had anytime to think  _WHY is she so fucking attractive, whose bulge did I punch in a past life for this to happen_  before he, too, was bolting in the opposite direction and into the factory.   
  
\------------  
  
The rooftop really was one of the most popular places in his hivestem, even when the sun was blaring down hot and hostile. There was a thick and heavy tarp that had been strung up for people who wanted to go up there, offering just a bit of safety. Lots of lusii stayed up there, Artolo's included. The coarse white fur was a relief between his fingertips, and the stag butted his head against his own with his wings fluffing out around them. Winged antlerbeast with sharp fangs- a bit unusual but then he was unusual too so they fit. He'd have no one else, not when his lusus had spent so much time with him, sheltered him, helped him hide his twice damned psionics so he wouldn't get shipped spaceside to be turned into something he wasn't.   
  
His lusus suddenly bristled, giving out a sharp bark and showing his teeth. Artolo quieted him down and didn't even have to look to see who was there. "Don't you have people to preach to, or thomething?"  
  
Signless just settled besides him. "We plan on leaving today, actually."   
  
"Oh good. Maybe now I'll actually be able to get thome work done." Their hands were brushing. It had been a whole perigee since he'd come smashing into their hideout warning them about the highbloods out for their hides, and he'd saved their ridiculous lot four more times since then. "I'm pretty thure if I do any more dithappearing actsth, I'll be put onto the culling list."   
  
Even before Signless opened his mouth, Artolo had an idea of what he was going to say. "You could always come with us." There was a gentle plea hidden in those words, somewhere.   
  
He didn't answer immediately. He kept raking his fingers through his lusus' coat. The mental pendulum was starting to swing into depressive, he could tell. Out of everything he wanted to do right then, a large part of him just wanted to lay down and let himself be culled. Living was a goddamn trial and he was sick of being at the stand.   
  
But there was a part of him that wasn't quite drowning just yet, and that part of him made his mouth open. "Thure, why the fuck not? I'll get my crap, it ithn't like there'th much of it."   
  
Finally, he looked to Signless and it was as though he'd told the guy that he was actually his fairy godtroll here to grant all his wishes and make him the prettiest bitch at the ball. Were people even supposed to smile that wide? "Really?"  
  
He shrugged his shoulders in a jerk. "Thure. I mean, I'm already thuidial, might ath well make it official." He watched as Signless' smile hung on by a thread like he wasn't sure if he was joking or not, and watched as it fell quicker than a meteor when he realized he wasn't. By that point, however, he was already up and moving to go back inside the hivestem. "I'll meet you outsthide, okay?"  
  
Before he could do anything else, Signless was suddenly latching around his middle and hugging him  _so_  ridiculously tight. He could feel his smile against his spine. "I can't wait to tell Rosa and Di!"  
  
"Oh god, you're a clinger."  
  
"Heheheheheh." It was a pretty decent mimic of his own obnoxious sniggering. "You're stuck with it now, you dick."  
  
...Well. He had to admit... There were worse things to be stuck with.


End file.
